


Scarlet Armor

by AmateurScribes



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Manipulation, Eye Color, Eye Trauma, Hallucinations, Hurt No Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Literary References & Allusions, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Partial Blindness, Social Isolation, Soulmates, but no actual content since I am a coward and a minor, but only mild it's not that bad, social stigma, this one isn't really happy sorry about that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 00:34:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16230518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmateurScribes/pseuds/AmateurScribes
Summary: Everything goes to shit the second Simmons notices that Grif's eyes were a different color. And then it goes to hell in a handbasket the second everyone in the New Republic finds out that Grif had a soulmate- aFedsoulmate.And it doesn't really end there.





	Scarlet Armor

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so, this _started_ off as an apology for Plagio, but like, it got way out of hand. It's really long and for a soulmate fic, it's not that, well, romance-y. Part of this is because I personally don't enjoy soulmate fics that well, but sometimes I can deal with writing it if the idea is really good. Since it's really long, I'm sure that there are gonna be plenty of mistakes, and my editors are unavailable so all the mistakes are my own! Uh, I hope you all enjoy!

Grif wasn't even aware that something was wrong until he had removed his helmet for the first time since they'd been separated from- from Donut and Sarge. And Wash too he guesses.

Everything had felt like such a blur, talking with the leader of the New Republic getting situated at what they were promised was a _temporary_ set up. It was a dingy room with four hastily set up cots, and while it looked absolutely pitiful, Grif was just relieved to get away from prying eyes.

All those New Republic soldiers had been staring at them in awe as they walked through the New Republic base, and considering that Grif was taking mental measurements he was sure that a lot of them were just teenagers. Which was not only depressing but also really, _really_ pitiful. Like the whole of the army, from its base to its soldiers.

So was the room really shitty? Yes. But it was miles better than having to spend any more time outside.

Tucker was sulking, his back turned towards them and facing the whole. Grif _knew_ that he wasn't asleep, they were just shown the room like a few minutes ago, to which Tucker had angrily thrown off his armor in a corner and threw himself onto the cot.

Caboose had nervously been sitting down on his own cot looking at Tucker, having not taken off his own armor. Simmons was meticulously removing his armor, placing it into neat piles on the floor considering that there was nowhere else to put it.

Grif rolled his eyes at the thought that he was going to be the last person to head towards the cot, which considering how tired and drained he felt he was surprised that he didn't just collapse on the cot the second that he set his eyes upon it.

Walking towards it, he reached up and made to take off his helmet. Feeling the cool air press against his face, he closed his eyes and sighed a little bit as his hair spooled around his shoulders. Wearing that thing all the time was really a pain, a necessary pain sure but a pain nonetheless.

Letting himself fall back onto the stiff cot he placed his helmet on top of the little sack that was supposed to be a pillow. He should take off the rest of his armor, but the whole situation was too sucky to give a shit.

Running a hand through his hair, he sighs and opens his eyes to look at Simmons, who was currently preoccupied with yanking off his boot. With one great yank, the boot came off and Simmons' body jerked slightly in response. He placed down on the floor, nice and neat like all the other pieces, before getting started on the other boot.

Grif watched as he did this, feeling a weight on his shoulders as he looked upon Simmons weary and stressed face. He just wished that they weren't the only two Reds available at the moment, Grif just _knows_ that Donut would have been doing a better job to lighten the mood than any of the rest of them could do.

The second boot came off easier, only being a small slip on protection guard seeing as that was his cybernetic leg. But still, he placed it down next to the other boot. Leaning up from his hunched over position, he raised his eyes to meet Grif's.

And proceeded to scream loudly, jerking backward enough that he almost tilted off of the small cot entirely. It was his scream that got Tucker to turn towards them finally, glaring at the intrusion to his brooding moment. Caboose had jolted up off his bed and whirled around towards them, and Simmons only had his mouth gaping open and closed, trying to form words and failing.

"Grif- you're- what happened to your," he started to stutter incomprehensibly.

Tucker sat up fully at that, arms bracing himself on the small cot, as he asked, "Simmons what the hell are you on about?"

Simmons still couldn't form any sentence so he merely raised a shaky hand and pointed at Grif's face. Grif raised his eyebrows and pointed at himself.

"Me?" he asked. "What's wrong with my face," he turned towards Tucker to ask.

And in doing so Caboose stepped backward and Tucker got off of the cot and onto his feet.

"What the fuck happened to your eyes," Tucker yelled out, alarmed.

"They are definitely a different shade of grey than before," Caboose whispered, moving slightly away from Tucker's hand as he tried to slap him.

"Ok first, yeah they weren't that shade of grey before, yes, but they were _never_ grey in the first place!" Tucker whirled around towards Grif and pointed at his own eyes. "Because Grif? Your eyes are fucking _grey_ now dude."

"What," Grif yelled, voice going slightly higher. His first instinct was to grab his helmet and look in his visor, but with the gold tint of it, he would only be able to see _something_ through a distorted lens. And if his eyes were a different fucking color then he'd like to see that with as much clarity as fucking possible.

So he doesn't go for his helmet, but instead jumps off the cot and rushed to the metal door, it's reflective sheen being the _only_ thing semi-relatively new about the New Republic. And as stupid as it felt to rely on the door to look at his own reflection, the shock of seeing grey orbs peering back at him from it, a streak of green breaking through the clarity of his grey left eye, made him feel light headed.

Grif really wasn't surprised when he felt his eyes roll into the back of his head, hiding the new color, as he fainted and collapsed onto the ground, hearing through white noise the shocked noises from his fellow soldiers.

"I don't understand," is the first thing Grif hears when he wakes up later, still on the floor, which ok was rude to just leave him there but fair since he is a bit on the heavy side. As his eyes flutter open, the first thing he sees is a blurry Simmons running a hole in the floor with his furious pacing, hand covering his mouth in deep thought. "How did his eyes change color?!"

"As I've said for the past _ten times,"_ Tucker stressed. "I. Don't. _Know."_

"It doesn't make any logical sense!" Simmons shrieked, removing his hand from his mouth to throw it and his other one in the air in incredulity. "Unless- does Chorus have some unknown radiation that can mutate our bodies?! Because I saw that lake on our tour of the base and I _swear_ that it looked irradiated!"

"Dude, why do you keep asking me?" Tucker spread his hands against his chest, squinting at Simmons. "I am the _last_ person you should be asking about these questions."

"Maybe he has those eyes that just change colors?" Caboose piped up. "His eyes _were_ almond colored before, right?"

"Ok, firstly Caboose," Simmons lifted his pointer finger, _"Hazel_ eyes. Not almond, not peanut, and not _any other kind of nut._ Second! They don't _really change color._ At least not _like this, ok?"_

"Hey dude, chill out. It was just a suggestion," Tucker defended before turning to Caboose. "But seriously Caboose, Grif's eyes aren't hazel. They were like, a nice whiskey brown? I dunno dude, you should be asking Simmons what color they were since he was always staring longingly into them."

"Excuse me," Simmons' voice went high, and it was at that point where Grif realized that he should probably say something.

So he tried to sit up and placing a hand against his head, spat out, "I have the world's worst migraine and I'd _really_ like it if we just put a big ol' dandy pin in this whole conversation, ok?"

"Grif," Simmons exclaimed. "You're up!"

"Yes, I'm up. Great observational skills, almost as good as your ability to notice that my eyes were a different damn color," Grif groaned as he lifted himself up, feeling his head swim with dizziness.

"Yeah about that, what are you gonna do about it?" Tucker asked curiously.

"Not mention it to anybody," Grif answered honestly. "Is it weird as fuck? Yes. Am I unnerved as all hell? Sure fucking am. But am I gonna do _anything_ about it? No."

"No?" Tucker crossed his arms. "Really? Your eyes just change a whole different color and you decided to just ignore it?"

"Yeup," his armor felt heavy against his chest, making it a little bit hard for him to breathe. He fumbled with the clasps, but Simmons came over and helped him remove his chest plate with relative ease. Grif considered getting rid of the rest, but swiftly decided to ignore them for the moment, and just decided to lie down on the cot and ignore all his life's problems.

His weird as fuck eyes being at the top of that list and the rest being way behind it.

"But, Grif what if it's something serious?" Simmons asked, nervously worrying his hands.

"Then if I die I die," he flippantly answered. "If I didn't notice my eyes _changing_ colors then I'm pretty sure it's nothing serious Simmons, relax."

Tucker groaned, and dropped his arms, going back towards his cot. "Just leave him be Simmons, we've got better things to think about."

Simmons, a little miffed, "Yeah well, I'm not just gonna leave it be. First thing I'm going to do tomorrow is ask around and see if some of the other soldiers have had their eyes change color. If they had then I'm going to research and see if it _is_ radiation. And if it is then I'm going to go straight to Kimball and-"

He was cut off by Tucker nailing him in the face with his sack-pillow, and while Simmons glared at the interruption, Tucker merely rolled back towards the wall and pulled his wool blanket over his head.

Simmons huffed but went to his own cot and passive-aggressively pulled his own wool blanket over his own head.

Caboose this time was the last person to go to his cot, as he has stood and thought a bit about just _what_ could have changed someone's eye colors is if wasn't from nut colored eyes. He couldn't think much of anything else so he gave up and decided to sleep on it.

So while the two Reds and two Blues decided to ignore the issue of Grif's eyes changing color, they weren't aware of someone else who had just pulled off their own helmet to come face to face with one brown colored eye, and a mishmash of brown, green, and one sliver of grey peeking through their left one.

* * *

Entering Kimball's office the next day for Simmons to grill her on _if_ there really was radiation causing weird mutations on the Rebel soldiers. After a brief confusion, which resulted in Simmons elaborating just a tad bit more, Kimball had a look of recognition in her eyes and some excitement bled into her expression.

"Are you positive," she said in awe, her eyes darting to Grif before darting back to Simmons. "His eyes really did change?"

Simmons glared suspiciously at her, before cautiously answering, "Yes?"

"Oh this is wonderful," Kimball sighed out in relief. "To think- the soulmate bond is coming _back."_

"I'm sorry the what," Tucker cut it, getting up from where he was leaning against the wall. "Did you just say _'soulmate bond'?"_

"I did indeed, Captain Tucker," Kimball responded coolly, watching as he bristled at the title. "I understand that it's not as common outside of Chorus, but surely you've heard the term before?"

"Yeah, _of course_ , I've heard it before," he rolled his eyes. "But like, in sappy romance novels that someone like Donut likes to read, not in _real life."_

"It's scientifically impossible," Simmons butted in, eyes darting quickly between Kimball and Grif. "There's no such thing as soulmates everyone knows that."

"Well here on Chorus there is such a thing," Kimball turned her gaze back towards Grif, a small smile on her face. "It used to be quite common for one of the original colonizers to simply walk past someone only to find that their eye colors had switched at the mere first gaze they had. We believe it was caused somehow by the Temples here on the planet, but there a quite a lot of people who just like to think that the planet only amplifies the bond, making it palpable."

"That- that still doesn't make any sense!" Simmons ran his hand through his hair. "And soulmates of all things?"

"I see no reason to shut down their hopes," Kimball's gazed turned downtrodden. "I know a lot of the younger soldiers are hoping that one day their eyes will suddenly change into a different color, it gives them some hope that there's something more than just war anymore."

Looking up at Grif again she says, "And now we have evidence that there is _something_ out there to look forward to."

Grif felt uncomfortable at the way she was looking at him, at the whole conversation in general. Because soulmates? Really? It sounded ridiculous like Tucker said- something straight out of a new smut novel that Donut would have fawned over for weeks, never shutting up about it until _everyone_ in Red Base knew the _whole_ damn plot.

And don't even get him started on the concept of soulmates themselves. How was that fair? He guessed that to some, knowing that there was someone destined for you was comforting, but all Grif could think was about how if you only had _one_ person out there for you what were you supposed to do waiting for them? Just not date people? How was that fair?

And why did soulmates have to be romantic? Why couldn't they be platonic or something like that? It just didn't make any sense to Grif, and while he could have posed any of these questions to Kimball, it was the look on her face that made him hold them back.

Because she really meant it- she really believed that just because his eyes had become a whole different color that there was some hope that the war wouldn't just breed death, death, and more death. That there could be something waiting for all those teenagers he had taken head counts of.

And that was probably the most unfair thing of all. And _he_ was the one stuck with the freaky eyes.

"If you don't mind, Captain Grif," Kimball gestured to her helmet on her desk. "I'd like to make an announcement to our soldiers, to see if anyone's eyes had changed as well."

He could feel Simmons eyes on him as he shrugged his shoulder and said, "Sure, doesn't matter to me."

She smiled in thanks before it disappeared behind her helmet. They weren't able to hear the announcement as they hadn't been added to that frequency yet, but they saw Kimball's body language change from brimming with excitement to a gradual change of disappointment. Her shoulders sloped downwards, and she reached up to remove her helmet, a dejected look on her face.

"None of my soldiers have noticed any eye changes," she paused before glancing up at Grif. "Your soulmate isn't from the New Republic."

 _They're a Fed,_ was left unsaid.

Which, was in all honesty, possibly worse than having a soul mate in the first place.

Because the Feds had taken their friends, and Grif could feel Tucker's glare at him, burning a hole at the back of his head.

He was desperate to leave the room now, so he muttered out a "Thanks anyway," before jettisoning out of the room as fast as possible. He didn't _run_ but he did hurry back towards their room, sidestepping more and more wide-eyed teenagers who were now looking at him for _a different reason_ entirely. They didn't say anything, but he just knew that eventually, they would.

Because now everyone in the New Republic knew that he had a soulmate, and he was sure that by sunrise tomorrow everyone would know that it wasn't anyone from the New Republic.

He reached the room and slid in, shutting it firmly behind him.

Hiding behind the door of their room, Grif hung his head back and sighed. Staring up at the ceiling, he wished it was as metallic as the door, just so that he could see the reflection of his irises staring back at him.

* * *

Tucker wasn't talking to him anymore. Wouldn't look at him, wouldn't face his general direction, and avoided him like the plague.

Apparently, his having a soulmate in the Federal Army made him responsible for _Wash's_ capture, that just because he was 'destined' to be with this person, he had to bear their crimes as well.

Which was bullshit.

And Caboose just followed what Tucker was doing, imitating by example, and Grif only knew that it was because Caboose was still feeling off-kilter from having to change into a whole new environment under stressful circumstances. Soon he'd be going off on his own doing whatever it was that made him happy, and hopefully bothering Grif and talking to him again.

Simmons wouldn't look at him on account of the fact that Grif had a soulmate, which he felt went against everything logical. Or at least, that's what Grif thought that Simmons was thinking. No matter the reason, Simmons still wasn't looking at him, and could barely talk to him without stuttering and having to excuse himself.

And that hurt most of all.

Which left just Grif. Practically alone, in the New Republic where near everyone avoided him as well. He walked around, seeing the scornful and cautious looks through the helmets, everyone looking at him and going, 'Oh that's just Dexter Prynne, beware his Scarlet Armor.'

It all fucking sucked. It made him just wanna leave the New Republic, just turn around and not look back. Go back to the crash site and take his chances in hell.

The only thing keeping him from hightailing it out of there was the soldiers assigned to his Gold Team. He was too much in a sour mood all the time now to argue about the fact that he was _orange_ and not gold.

Somehow those privates were the only kids in the whole New Republic that didn't curl up their face in disgust just being in his presence. And it was probably because they were just as on the untouchable tier as him. The leftovers of the small army, too lazy to get assigned to a proper squad and too much of a hassle to try and whip them into shape.

So they were given to him of all people. And yeah some of them were a little disgruntled about being on his team because if they weren't avoided before, they sure as hell were going to be now.

Grif only felt slightly bad about them getting the short end of the stick, being branded with his color, all of them becoming miserable and jaded little Pearl's.

Watching the relationship between Bitters and Matthews only ended up souring his mood more, and the incessant comments from Matthews didn't help one bit.

"What if you come across your soulmate on the battlefield, Captain Grif?" the young private asked with wide eyes. "Do you think you'd be able to kill them?"

Grif watched as the other Gold Team members looked towards their direction, undoubtedly curious themselves.

"Well seeing as I probably looked at them as they were attacking us, I'd say that I'd be willing to shoot them for that," he answered, shifting uncomfortably, looking for a way out. "But I'd rather _not_ be on the battlefield if you catch my drift."

Matthews was quiet for a moment, before whispering, "I don't think I could do that."

"Why not," Grif asks watching as in the distance Tucker and a few of his men came back from a successful retrieval mission. Tucker was doing his best to not glance in Grif's direction, which is something that he should have expected by now.

"Because my soulmate is a Fed too," Matthews whispered so quietly that when Grif _heard_ it he whipped his head back towards Matthews in shock.

Grif doesn't know what to say, he was under the impression that he was the only one to have a soulmate in a while. But looking down at the kid before him, the way his shoulders were hunched up, and the timid feel to his demeanor, Grif's pretty sure that he didn't tell anybody for the same reasons why Grif himself was being ostracized.

Looking at the other soldiers, who had obviously been eavesdropping moments before, he watches as they all conveniently look the other way, their posture mimicking Matthews own.

Oh.

_Oh._

Well that fucking sucked, didn't it.

Placing his hand on Matthews' shoulder, he sighs as he suddenly understands the way Matthews had idolized him, the way the other Gold Team soldiers were more accepting, but still angry at the concept, just _all of it._

"Come on, kid," he said. "Let's go raid the mess hall, give all these assholes a _real_ reason to hate us."

Turning towards his other soldiers, he said, "And that goes for you lot as well."

While he couldn't see their faces, he just knew that his kids had brightened up a little bit.

* * *

"So, if it isn't _the_ famed Captain Dexter Grif," Felix smirked, leaning against the doorway to Grif's private room. Kimball had separated all the Captain's rooms, and while he knew that she meant to give them privacy all it really did was create a further divide between himself and the others.

The only positive thing about it was that it was far away from everyone else so he didn't have to worry about anyone bothering him.

Sighing, he crosses his arms and glares at Felix behind his helmet, saying, "What do you want Felix?"

All he wanted to do was go back to his room after a rather _humiliating_ joint exercise between _all_ the teams. Grif knew that Tucker had just used it as an excuse to kick his ass.

"Oh you know, was just curious as to what your eyes look like _now_ that you've seemingly come across your soulmate," Felix gave a brief laugh.

Rolling his eyes, he flapped his hands in a 'get out' motion as he said, "I bet you're really curious but just like everyone _else_ who's asked in the past, however many fucking days, the answer is a hard _no."_

Shaking his head, Felix continued to smirk, "Come on, we're friends right, Grif? How's about a deal? If you just give me a look, I'll get Kimball to get all the other soldiers off your back? Sound fair?"

Groaning, he knew that Felix wasn't going to leave until he just gave in and showed him. He didn't even care that much about the supposed deal, he just wanted that annoying asshole to leave him alone.

"Fine," reaching up, he removed his helmet, throwing it on the bed and looking at Felix with a glare. "Happy now?"

Felix didn't say anything and his smirk had been wiped off his face, taking two big strides forward he looked straight into Grif's eyes, but the motion had caused Grif to flinch back into the bed frame, eyes open wide.

He held his breath as Felix scanned his eyes, looking for something and apparently finding it as the smirk returned and grew wider than before.

"Interesting," he said simply. "That's a nice color on you Grif, grey is really flattering for you."

"Thanks?" Grif raised an eyebrow, still leaning back and away from Felix.

Felix took a few steps back but didn't leave the room. He looked around at the meager room, and Grif only watched as he did so.

Then in a quick pivot, he was up and out of the door before Grif could even blink.

He felt so off by the whole damn event, that he just stood there like an idiot for far longer than he should have.

* * *

After that one time, it was almost as if Felix was popping up _everywhere_ and _anytime_ that Grif was by himself.

Walking down an empty hallway? Suddenly Felix was there to pester him about his life.

Sitting down alone at the mess hall? Suddenly Felix was sliding in next to him acting as if they always ate together.

Relaxing alone in his room? There'd be a knock on his door and oh look at that, it'd be _Felix._

It was annoying as fuck and it made Grif crave the times when nobody wanted anything to do with him.

"Aren't you usually bothering Tucker? What happened to pestering him?" Grif snapped after being woken up by Felix's fucking knocking on his goddamn door _again._

"Tucker is old news to me now," Felix waved his hand dismissively. "I mean, sure he's widely more _competent_ and a better soldier than you, which isn't saying much since he's still a SIM Trooper, but the point still stands."

"Ok yes, if he's a better soldier than go talk to him and interrupt _his_ sleep," Grif said irritably.

Felix tsked, saying, "You didn't let me finish, Captain. He may be the better soldier, but he's not nearly as interesting as you are because- _wow,_ the first person bearing a soulmate bond that this planet as seen in a while? It's practically criminal for me to not figure out everything about you."

"That's extremely creepy and you should know that," Grif grimaced.

"Hey, can't help if it's the truth," leaning his head on his hand, Felix peered up at Grif smugly. "So how's the whole soulmate concept holding up for you? Sick to death of it by now."

"You're not gonna leave until I answer your questions, right?" Grif sighed.

"Bingo," Felix smiled brightly. "So, your thoughts on soulmates?"

"I think this whole thing is so goddamn ridiculous," Grif admitted. "Why the fuck does it matter that I'm apparently destined to be with another person?"

"Be careful on who hears you say that a lot of the soldiers here have a lot of hope placed on these ridiculous bonds," Felix quips. "Besides, would you really say that if your soulmate was in the same room as you?"

"Seeing as that's never going to happen? Yes," Grif crossed his arms while glowering.

Placing his right hand over his heart Felix says, "Ouch, Grif. You wound me."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean," Grif asked, squinting his eyes at the other man.

"I mean really, Grif," Felix ignored him. "This entire time I've been trying to give you hints and it's only _now_ that you say something to me? And here I thought we were soulmates."

All of his thoughts screeched to a halt at that, and he drops his eyes and just stares at Felix as he mumbles out a confused, "What?"

"I mean," Felix tapped the corner of his right eye, causing Grif to focus on the color of Felix's irises. "Don't you recognize your own eye color, I sure as hell recognized my own."

Grif didn't know what to say to that. And yeah, ok, he admitted that Felix's eye color was pretty similar to his own original brown color, but shouldn't- shouldn't the left eye be green? He thinks back to his own changed eye, at how a small streak of green still shows through the dominating grey.

"I've been trying to get you to figure it out for a while now," Felix said. "I mean, we didn't really have enough time to remove our helmets back at the crash site, but imagine _my_ surprise when I found that somehow I met my soulmate on _accident."_

Grif's still trying to wrap his mind around him and _Felix_ of all people being his- his _soulmate._ It felt like some type of cruel joke but it did explain Felix's sudden fascination with him after him his eyes. But that didn't explain why he didn't say anything sooner, why he didn't investigate sooner rather than just leaving Grif hanging and dealing with everything by himself.

"For a while there, I thought it might have been one of those random Fed soldiers. But luckily it turned out to be you," Felix turned around and started to walk down the corridor. "I'll give it some time to sink in but come find me when you're ready to accept it."

Grif almost felt like running after him, demanding of him to explain everything. But it was like when Felix left, the lethargic feeling in his body had returned to remind him that he was in fact woken up in the middle of the- fuck it was probably morning by then.

And Grif really should process everything. Weigh whether or not Felix was just yanking his chain or actually telling the truth.

So he reluctantly collapsed on the bed, dead set on finding Felix early the next morning to get him to answer all of his questions.

* * *

By the afternoon of the next day, Grif was pretty sure that Felix was _possibly_ telling the truth. With that weasel, Grif could never tell, but the confidence in which he answered all Grif's questions- why he hadn't spoken up until then, what evidence did he have that it was true, etc.- couldn't be faked on the spot Grif thought.

So Felix was apparently his soulmate. And he didn't really know what to do with that information.

Felix had mentioned that he didn't want to lose his low profile by putting himself in the spotlight as the other half of Grif's soulmate bond, which kinda hurt, but Grif found that he preferred that as well.

The last thing he wanted was for people to change the reason why they didn't like him, it changing from disgust that his soulmate was a Fed soldier to wariness that it was _Felix._

Plus he had to remind himself that he didn't care about the whole soulmate concept anyways.

And joining on the long list of surprises that were happening to him, Simmons coming up to apologize to him made the list as well.

"Hey Grif," Simmons had approached timidly. "I just- God I've been a real asshole to you lately."

"I'll say," Grif rolled his eyes. It was just the two of them in the open courtyard, having dismissed their teams earlier.

"I just," Simmons took in a deep breath before looking Grif in the eyes. "I just wanted to say sorry, for avoiding you like everyone else. It's not because I thought less of you! It was just, a lot to take in and I had to think about it. But now I see what a mistake that was."

"Apology not accepted, but thanks," Grif looked down because as much as he wanted to just wave away how Simmons had avoided him, it still felt like shit to lose the one person who had always been by his side.

"Yeah I deserve that," Simmons nodded, looking down as well. "But I plan to make it up to you! As long as you're fine with me hanging out with you again."

Smiling slightly, Grif responds, "I don't have a problem with-"

"Pardon me, gentlemen," Felix intruded, wrapping an arm around Grif's shoulder causing him to tense up. "I do hope that you don't mind if I borrow him, Captain Simmons."

"Actually I do mind," Simmons glared at Felix, but the mercenary simple waved him off.

"You don't? Awesome! Now excuse us," with that he guided Grif away from Simmons, rounding a corner where no other soldiers were.

"What the hell was that for," Grif angrily said as he removed himself from the grasp of Felix.

"Just didn't like where that conversation was heading is all," Felix shrugged his shoulders.

"Oh my God, you're such an asshole!" Grif clenched his fists before flipping off Felix, turning around with the intent to go _back_ to Simmons.

Before he could even make the corner, Felix had grabbed his hand and pulled him back, saying, "Come on now, Captain. What's the harm in listening to your soulmate, _especially_ when he knows that that right there? Was just a huge lie."

Glaring down at his ensnared hand, Grif asked, "What the hell are you going on about _now?"_

"He doesn't really mean the apology, he just wants to get into your good graces again," Felix pointed towards Simmons who was turning around and heading back to his quarters. "Trust me on this, I know exactly when someone is lying, and he didn't mean any of what he just said."

"And I'm supposed to just what? Trust you just because you're my soulmate, over someone who I've known for years?" Grif yanked his hand out of his grip.

"Well for someone who's known you for years that didn't really seem to matter when he realized you were suddenly off limits," Felix pointed out.

Grif felt his cheeks heat up at that, and he didn't respond to Felix's claim, merely turned around and stormed to his own room. He felt his heart clench a little tight in a painful manner but decided to ignore it in favor of thinking about how much he hated his soulmate.

* * *

"I don't like how Felix's been hanging around you," Tucker says abruptly, talking to Grif for the first time in what feels like _forever._

Oh, there was no way in hell Grif was just going to let that jerk intrude upon his life after the way he had treated him.

"Oh so _now_ you're talking to me?" Grif bit out, getting up and returning his tray to the proper spot in the mess hall.

Tucker followed him as he made his way out, not noticing how the entire room had their eyes on them, saying, "Grif, I'm being serious. I don't trust Felix as far as I could throw him, I just know he's up to something creepy."

"Why," Grif glared at him. "Because he's focusing on someone else who isn't you?"

"What, no dude. Wait- are you implying that you like the attention he's giving you," Tucker looked as confused as he sounded.

"I dunno Tucker, what would you do if _everyone_ just decided to stop talking to you over something you couldn't control and then some asshole is the only one who actually wants to talk to you all of a sudden," Grif said that with a pointed look.

Taking in a sharp inhale, Tucker grimaced. "Ok yeah, fuck, sorry dude but that doesn't mean you should just trust Felix like that!"

"Don't tell me how to live my life," Grif looked away and continued down the corridor.

He heard Tucker walk faster to keep up with his pace saying, "Grif you should listen to me on this. Felix has something wrong with him I _swear_ I don't want you getting hurt in some weird scheme he's planning."

"You know Tucker," Grif stopped abruptly. "I just think you're jealous that the attention isn't on you anymore. What happened Tucker? Gave up on Wash already and so you moved on to someone new?"

He knew it was a low blow, but Tucker had denied his existence for so long, and now all of a sudden he just thinks it's ok to interfere with _his_ life? Grif wasn't going to tolerate any of that shit.

Grif could feel the tension in the hallway spike at that, and for a second he thought Tucker was going to hit him as he saw his fists clenched tightly.

But all he said was, _"Fine._ Be that way. Don't come crying to me if something bad happens to you."

Tucker bumped into Grif harshly as he made his way down the corridor, calling out over his shoulder, "And don't let you and your lieutenant fuck things up for the rest of us, _some_ of us want to save the others."

Grif watched as he went out of sight, and he merely glared at the ground as the hallway was filled with soldiers stepping around him with a wide berth.

* * *

"I heard about what happened with Tucker," was the first thing out of Felix's mouth when Grif opened the door to his room.

Grif blinked but then furrowed his brow at the fact that Felix just apparently came into his room without him being there, and at the fact that he somehow knew about his and Tucker's spat in the hallway.

He wasn't honestly too emotionally drained to deal with Felix's _Felixness_ and just wanted the source of all his life's problems to just disappear and bother him a different day.

"Oh the quiet treatment huh," Felix remarked. He moved closer to Grif, but Grif moved away and started the process of removing his armor in quiet. "That fight must have really made you mad huh?"

"For the love of God what could you possibly want now," Grif grunted out as he removed his chest plate, dropping it onto the floor with a harsh clang to emphasize his mood.

"Well, I came to offer you another deal, considering how badly you guys have done so far in the challenge," there was something laced in between Felix's words, that it got Grif to stop mid removal of his boot to look at him.

Knowing exactly how Felix liked to twist up his deals, he glared suspiciously at him as he asked, "What kind of deal?"

"Oh, you know," Felix shrugged, rolling his hand. "Nothing too drastic just speeding along our relationship really. The deal is this- if you have sex with me every night each day I'll go easier on you guys making the possibility of you guys winning and being able to go save your friends go up."

"What!" Grif exclaimed loudly, jumping off of his bed. "What are you? Crazy?!"

"Come on, dear soulmate," Felix placed his hands over his chest. "Don't you think it was about time that we got a little more intimate?"

"Um, no!" Grif looked away, feeling absolutely horrified at the prospect of just- _even thinking about it makes him shudder._ "I would hardly call what we have a relationship! Just because you're my soulmate doesn't mean I have to like you or do _anything_ with you!"

"Ouch, again. You really know how to hurt a guy, Grif," Felix rolled his eyes slightly but upped the ante on his charm. "But I'm being serious here, because like it or not, we're soulmates. And sooner or later we're going to have to do something about that. So why not let you get something out of that too, hm?"

Grif wanted so badly to refute him, kick him out of his room. But then he thought about what Tucker had said to him in the hallway, about him insinuating that Grif didn't want to save the others.

And as much as it made his blood boil to think that he would do anything in response to Tucker, he knew he deserved to be petty.

Which is the only reason why he said, "Fine, it's a deal."

* * *

The others have noticed their fake slight improvement with the challenge. While Simmons takes it as a good thing, Tucker had been getting more and more frustrated until he literally burst in anger.

"He's doing this on purpose," he stormed, pacing back and forth with his fists clenched. "He's making himself weaker slightly to _mock_ us."

"Come on, Tucker. I am pretty sure it is because we are getting better because we are working super duper hard and he is not," Caboose chided.

"I agree with Caboose," Simmons piped. "We have been training a lot, maybe it's all paying off?"

"Well I'm telling you that it's not," Tucker growled. He briefly glanced at Grif, who was doing everything in his willpower to look away from everyone in the room. He didn't want to talk with them much, and especially not on this particular topic.

"Lay off Tucker," he said, eyes still averted. "What difference does it make?"

"It makes a big difference, Grif," Tucker rolled his eyes but stopped pacing. "He's getting us to think that we're ready and then the next thing you know we're going to get all these kids killed because we're not _actually_ good."

Grif purses his lips, and as much as he hates to admit it, Tucker kind of has a point. Which makes him feel a little bit shameful, heat rising to his cheeks as he keeps in the real reason why Felix had been going easier on them.

"We're leaving," Tucker announces.

"What?" Grif questions. "Leaving? Leaving to where?"

"I'm not going to risk any more lives to save Wash and the others," Tucker gets quiet for a second before continuing on. "We'll leave before anyone can stop us, go to the Fed compound ourselves and free everybody."

"This is a terrible idea," Simmons refutes, before pausing. "But, I guess it is the only thing we can do."

"Not you too, Simmons," Grif moans. "You're supposed to be the logical voice of reason."

"Usually I would Grif but," Simmons trailed off. He resumed talking in a softer voice, "Most of these soldiers are just kids. They have no idea what they're doing and they're going to get killed trying. I don't want that on my conscious."

"Grif, you can stay here all you like, but I already went and napped all the data I retrieved on the Feds," Tucker gestured towards the bases garage. "But I'd really prefer if you joined us for this, there's no one else I'd rather be behind the wheel then you."

Grif wants to say no, he wants to do it so badly. But he remembers all the times when he just thought that leaving the New Republic was the only way to escape the judgment for having a soulmate who was probably a Federal soldier. But then he thinks of his poor Gold Team soldiers, and he thinks of Matthews who would struggle to fire a bullet if he thought his soulmate was somewhere in a crowd of Fed soldiers.

And he thinks about how far away he wants to get from Felix most of all.

"Alright," he sighs. "I'm in."

* * *

After everything's said and done, Grif _wishes_ he could say he wasn't surprised by Felix's reveal. It should have been expected, but it wasn't. He feels confused and betrayed as Felix makes his grand entrance as a villain, and then he feels even more mortified at what he says just before Carolina teleports them away.

"And Grif- I truly must thank you for being so naive, you were a great fuck, I'll give you that," and Grif can practically hear the smugness dripping from those words.

But then they're gone in a flash and they're someplace different and he feels Tucker tackles him, yelling, "You fucking idiot!"

"Grif what the hell was he talking about," Simmons asks, hand to his head but his voice still high with incredulous.

"You goddamn idiot, I told you," Tucker shakes his chest plate roughly. _"I told you."_

"Lay off asshole," Grif bites out, pushing Tucker off of him and standing up to get a good distance away from him.

"What did I say! I told you that fucker was up to something creepy but, no," he drawled out. "You just wanted to keep me out of your business, well guess what chucklefuck! It's now _all_ our business."

"God, don't you ever shut your goddamn mouth up," Grif bristled. "You're just like Felix in that regard."

"I guess you would know something about that wouldn't you!" Tucker clenched his fists. "What did he do to get you to agree to that, huh? What- did he claim that he was your soulmate?"

Grif clenched his mouth shut and glared daggers at Tucker as he exclaimed, "You fucking idiot he did didn't he?! And you believed him?!"

"Well what the fuck else was I supposed to believe," Grif took a step forward in Tucker's direction. "That it was a Fed soldier instead? Pardon me for going with the option that- at the time!- seemed the less likely to get me ostracized by an entire army- oh wait! It was too late for that!"

"Dude, are you seriously still on that," Tucker asked. "I already said sorry for ignoring you! And I know Simmons did as well!"

"Like that's just supposed to make it ok," Grif threw his hands up into the air. "God, you're the idiot then!"

"Uh, as much as I hate to break into, whatever the fuck this is, I think we should move onto more important topics," Epsilon materialized in front of Tucker.

This worked well in Grif's favor as Tucker's anger at him was quickly diverted to the AI, with him yelling and tackling the hologram.

And for as quickly as the topic moved away from him, Grif could still feel Simmons' and Cabooses eyes on him.

Fucking hell, he never hated soulmates more than in that moment.

* * *

The one good thing that Grif could find about the whole Felix tricking him fiasco, was that he had listened to Felix's wish to not reveal to anyone about them being 'soulmates.'

As much as he hated to thinking about his gullibility, he's just glad that the stigma he faced in the New Republic hadn't gotten a million times worse after they revealed Felix and Locus' ploy to both armies.

Some of the New Republic soldiers still avoided him when they could, but with the intermixing of armies there were a lot more Fed soldiers who either didn't know about his whole social position or they knew and just didn't care seeing as, if they did it would require them admitting that they themselves were something akin to a disease.

But Matthews had been increasingly excited over the integration, a bounce in his steps that only increased the further the week went along.

At one point he bounded up to Grif to ask in a voice of awe, "Captain, do you think I can find my soulmate now that we're on the same side?"

And it's that statement that makes Grif think, think about his Gold Team- a group of people who seemingly all harbored the secret that their soulmate was likely a Fed soldier. And he thinks about how this is their chance, that this was the universe's way of giving back to the shit hand that they were dealt with in life.

So he looks down at his soldier and says in earnest, "You know what Matthews? Yeah, give it a shot, kid."

Matthews beamed up at him, and said honestly, "Don't worry Captain Grif! I'm sure that you'll find your soulmate too!"

But that stings at him and makes him both bitter and humiliated at once, so he dismissively says, "Don't you have training to go to?"

He let out a sigh of relief at Matthews alarmed, "Oh no, I'll be late if I don't leave now!" before running off to go meet Wash and the Lieutenants.

The moment of relief doesn't last long as he gets a little ping on his HUD saying that General Doyle wanted to meet with him briefly.

Reluctantly, he makes his way to the office that Doyle was accommodating, seeing the man twiddle his mustache in nervousness, his helmet off and placed neatly on the desk.

"Ah, Captain Grif," he reaches out his hand for a handshake, that Grif promptly ignores, forcing the man to drop it awkwardly and cough into his fist. "Now, I'm sure you're probably wondering why you're here."

"Not really," he says bored. He already knows why Doyle has asked to meet with him. It's the same goddamn reason why _anyone_ is interested in him alone.

"Right, of course," he says nervously. "Well, as you know, I was the general of the Federal Army of Chorus, and Vanessa has told me that your eyes have changed colors. I take immense pride in my soldiers, Captain, and as such, I note down whenever one of them reports their eyes changing colors."

"Yeah, yeah," Grif rolled his eyes, reaching up to his helmet. "Let's just cut to the chase and I'll show you my eye color so you can find a match or whatever."

Taking off his helmet, he watched as Doyle's eyes widened behind his glasses, shock appearing on his face as he muttered, "Oh dear."

He fiddled around with a file on the desk, but Grif knew he wasn't actually looking at any of the papers within it.

"I am, afraid Captain Grif that you're soulmate is not on the Federal Army records, for none of the, uh, soldiers who have reported their bonds forming had grey eyes," he said, avoiding looking up at Grif.

"So my soulmate is dead, then?" Grif didn't feel surprised, given his luck. He just hoped that the reports matched up with the members of Gold Team, that they would get something good for once.

"Well, it is a complicated matter," Doyle stuttered out, but Grif was already putting on his helmet.

"That solves that then," he dismisses. "Didn't care much for a soulmate anyways."

He was halfway out the door when Doyle called out, "Wait!"

Turning towards the timid man, he watched as he juggled whether or not to say what was on his mind, before he settled with, "Never mind, carry on, Captain Grif."

He turned around and didn't look back, not even when his stomach turned at the thought that his stupid eyes meant absolutely nothing in the end.

* * *

"Captain Grif," he hears Grey call to him from across the hall. "A moment of your time if you would."

Placing his head in his hands, he groans loudly but doesn't move forward anymore. Nobody was leaving him the fuck alone anymore. Every day someone new would find him out and just ask and ask and _ask_ about his stupid goddamn eyes. He was sick of it, at least before he only had to worry about a couple of assholes bothering him about it. But now he had to worry about near _everyone._

Briskly, Grey came up to him and gestured toward her office which she had left after seeing him in the same corridor. "I'd really _love_ a chance to talk with you about everything."

"And what if I don't want to talk about anything," Grif said. "What if I just want to live in blissful silence for the rest of my life, living peacefully without _any_ interruptions of any kind?"

"Oh, Captain that's really silly," Grey giggled but strong-armed him into walking towards his office. "Especially since you forget that I was _there_ during the _first_ big reveal!"

The scowl slid off his face as he tried to make his expression as neutral as possible as they entered, warily eyeing the door to the office as Grey clicked it shut behind them.

"Now, that we're alone," Grey pulled out a single chair, before taking the one opposite of it. "Let's start off with a couple basic questions. How are you doing, Captain?"

"I _was_ doing fine a couple minutes ago," he collapses into the chair, crossing his arms as he watched Grey lace her fingers together to rest her head on top of them.

"Does this bother you," she asked innocently. "People asking about your soulmate bond?"

"What do you think," he rolled his eyes. "Believe you me, I was a lot happier when people decided to just ignore my presence altogether rather than now when no one will give me a piece of fucking mind."

"Ah there it is again," she notes. "You brought it up when you were fighting with Tucker, this whole ignoring business. Could you elaborate more on that? I'm afraid I haven't an inkling of a clue as to what that refers to."

"Jesus Christ," he mumbles. "Look, you and the other Fed soldiers seem alright, ok? But you can see that the New Republic soldiers _really_ don't like you guys, and that's just when they're working together now. From before, having a soulmate who was supposedly an enemy soldier? Kinda makes the hate go to you as well."

"I see," Grey nods. "Is that why you were so willing to believe Felix's lies? I don't blame you for doing so, I'm sure it seemed like the far better option."

"Do we really have to talk about this," he looks up at the ceiling, regretting all of his life decisions.

"We do indeed!" she chirped. "If the other Reds and Blues refuse to bring it up then _I_ need to be there to make sure it doesn't go unresolved. So, discuss it if you would."

"I really don't want to talk about it," he mumbles. "I'm a grown adult I can make decisions for myself. Decisions that fucking come back to haunt me later yeah, but the point still stands."

"And him tricking you into doing it doesn't bother you?" she asked.

"Yeah it bothers me, but it happened and I can't change it. As long as it doesn't get out to the other soldiers I'm fine with just ignoring it," he answered. God, he didn't even want to imagine the shitshow that would happen amongst _all_ the soldiers if somehow that information got leaked.

He didn't think it would, but he didn't want to take his chances in hell with that.

"While I don't much agree with leaving this unresolved," Grey sighed. "I agree that it may be best to keep this all nice and tidy, and away from prying ears. It was a cruel thing to do, and I would hope that our soldiers would be understanding, but all things considered, I don't think they would."

"Yeah, for all they practically worship the soulmate bond, they are quick to jump at someone's throat for fucking with their perfect views of it," Grif huffed.

"I know you're probably tired of hearing this," she started.

"I am," he interjected.

"But if I may," she tapped her finger against her visor, indicating what she wanted him to do.

He didn't want to, he just wanted to get up and leave. But Grey would probably find him at every turn if he didn't do it now, and he'd rather get it over with every time someone asked instead of prolonging the fucking torture.

So he reached up like every time before and revealed his face to her.

There was no recognition in her voice as she looked at him, only curiosity as she asked, "How peculiar, that green streak- do you know where that came from?"

He shrugged, saying, "It's the same color as the eye Simmons gave me. My normal eye color is brown."

"The eye Simmons gave you," she questioned, he hands resting on the desk.

"I got run over by a tank a while ago, Simmons donated his organs to me, including his eye and left limbs," Grif explained.

"That's," Grey seemed perplexed and paused for a few seconds before rising up from her desk. She walked over to him and tilted his head up slightly, placing her finger in front of him asking, "Can you follow this for me?"

"Ok?" he responded. Grey moved her finger back and forth, and he followed it, but apparently, _something_ must have been wrong since her grip on his chin tightened just a tad.

"Who performed this surgery," she asked, letting go of him.

He frowned a little as he answered, "Sarge."

"Well, that is concerning," she mumbled. "Your left eye was the transplanted one, correct?"

Straightening up in his chair, he said, "Yeah, why what's wrong?"

"Nothing too serious," she said calmly. "That eye is just a tad lazier than the other if I had to guess it wasn't connected correctly. But now I'm just worried that the soulmate bond may affect it in some other way."

"Huh," he panicked a little bit. "Like what?!"

"Possible macular degeneration," she answered calmly. "Tell me, Captain, have things seemed blurry to you in that eye?"

"I don't know! I don't pay attention to that kind of thing," he got up out of his chair.

"If you would, I'd like to have you examined to see if there is something wrong," she walked towards the door and opened it. "We can revisit your mental state for a later day. But right now I'd like to check to be safer than sorry."

He kept his helmet off as he followed her to the medical ward.

* * *

Grif's halfway to considering just gouging out his eyes- just getting the whole damn thing over and done with. Oh, only partial blindness? Why not just take it to the next step and get rid of the whole damn eye himself. It would solve his stupid soulmate business too- no one to judge eyes that didn't exist anymore. He wouldn't be able to fight either, and if Kimball still made him at least he could get cybernetic replacements. _Those_ shouldn't change color because of some bullshit magic bond that ruined people's lives.

So he's glaring down at his food, stabbing his spoon into it over and over, not in the mood to eat anything. Only in the mood to judge whether or not his eyesight was getting worse. Which, as Grey told him it'd take a long time before it became too much a problem, but it had him second judging whether or not the fuzziness was because he was tired and upset or if because Grey was a liar and that he'd wake up the next day unable to see clearly except from the peripherals of his left eye.

And it's as he's doing this when Simmons sits down next to him at the table. He doesn't say anything, and Grif sure as fuck isn't going to say anything either. Just continue to take his anger out on his food.

So it's just them sitting, like a bunch of idiots, when the others join him at the table. Grif pauses his hand, looks up at the collection of brightly armored soldiers, before continuing. He had nothing he wanted to say to any of them.

He didn't want to talk about the whole soulmate business and he sure as fuck wasn't going to tell them about his stupid eye. It wasn't any of their business and he made sure Grey knew that none of them were allowed to go peeking around his medical records.

If it became more of a problem then he would tell them, but by then he hoped that the war would be over. That the space pirates would have their asses kicked and Felix and Locus would be dealt with in whatever manner was decided. A small part of him hoped that Felix would die, but he didn't want to dwell on it for too long.

Then he could spend the rest of the days relaxing, hopefully far away from Chorus, somewhere away from the ridiculous notion of soulmates and being labeled amongst the 'untouchable' caste of Chorus. He'd prefer to go to Earth, maybe find Kai because knowing her she was still alive and kicking despite what everyone had tried to convince him.

And he thought all of this in silence, no one at the table trying to start a conversation with him. Just sitting in their company in blissful silence.

He could see the questions brimming behind Simmons' eyes, the words Tucker wanted to say but didn't. And that was fine, it sure as hell was a start.

Grif glances toward the table where his kids were talking with some Fed soldiers, Matthews certainly seemed happy enough. Good. He was glad for him, for all of them. It was about damn time.

So they just sat and ate, ignoring all the stares of the mixed soldiers, some more curious than others.

* * *

"Um, Captain Grif, sir?" a timid voice pipes up from behind him, and he turns to see a New Republic soldier holding the hand of a Fed soldier.

He raises an eyebrow at that, but turns around fully nonetheless to ask, "What's up?"

This is certainly new. Not many Republic soldiers would come up to him to talk about something when they could go to literally any other captain instead. But eyeing the clasped hands, he wonders if maybe this would be the rare case where _he_ was the only reliable captain.

"We, we were just, um, wondering if," the New Republic girl stuttered for a bit before the one beside her cut in.

"You're the infiltration specialist right?" the Fed soldier asks. "Like, you're really good at getting things- small things?"

"Yeah that'd be me," he said. "Why, is there something _small_ you need me to get?"

"Yes," the Fed nods. "It's just that- um, well. _Gosh, this is so embarrassing,"_ she mumbles.

"The med ward is running low on supplies," her friend interjected. "But not- not medicine, it's like um, _girl supplies._ And we were wondering if- if on your next scouting mission if it's not too much trouble..."

"Pads or tampons?" he asks, and he sees the two girls lift their helmets in shock. "I'm sure I'll be able to find both, but if I'm getting them in bulk- enough to last a week at least- I'd rather know which one you prefer."

"Oh uh, pads please," the Republic girl squeaks. The Fed also nods her head at that, and they both tighten their grip on each other's hand. "It's- it's not too much of a problem right?"

"Of course not," he shrugs, trying to get them to relax a little bit. "I have a younger sister, I'm used to running out to the store to get her supplies. Sure, in that case, it was a nearby convenience store, but it should be relatively the same. Are you two..." he trails off, pointing down at their intertwined hands.

"Kind of," the Fed says. "Not soulmates, but..."

"We're both in Sleeping Quarter A," the Republic girl adds. "This really means a lot so..."

"Thank you!" they say simultaneously, before turning and running down the hallway, probably flushed and embarrassed behind their helmets.

He sighs softly and makes a mental note to ask Kimball if she'd like him to add more menstrual supplies to the list of things to look out for when scouting. But for now, he'd find a small pack for the two of them to share.

It wasn't too hard and when he delivers it to their quarters he adds a few small snacks on top, thinking about how Kai always appreciated it when he brought back ice cream or her favorite kind of candy. Small things, little things, really.

And apparently, they spread the word because slowly more and more soldiers come up to him, wary and probably still thinking on how they acted towards him in the past if they were Republic, asking for small things that weren't too unreasonable.

And Grif wasn't an asshole. He wasn't going to say no to a bunch of teens and soldiers who just barely qualified as young adults because they treated him badly in the past. He wasn't petty like that, besides, it was a good enough way for them to get used to interacting with him. Just like how slowly the tension between the two armies was lessening slowly day by day.

And everything was fine for a while like that. It was getting better.

* * *

Armonia was evacuated and they have to listen as Doyle plans to use himself as bait- something very, _very_ stupid and idiotic and more likely to result in his death than anything else.

And then everything goes wrong at once, and Carolina is practically dragging Kimball into the Pelican, and he can only hear half of the conversation between her and Doyle, but seeing as they were doing it on a secure line he's sure it's something important.

"God damn it, Doyle! Stop!" Kimball begs, desperation bleeding heavily into her voice.

"No I don't want to listen to what you have to say, just listen to me-" she cut off by whatever he's saying. "Doyle- I don't understand, why are you _telling me this-"_

She glances towards Grif, but the movement is small, it's really not noticeable but he still sees it.

"I- I promise I'll tell him, but Doyle please, don't do this," she tries again. "Wait! Don't-!"

And then she's silent, and the Pelican is doing it's damn best to get them out of there. They all here the boom, the telltale sign that the reactor core has detonated, and Simmons was panicking and Wash is telling them all to brace themselves when he notices that Carolina isn't there with them.

The Pelican shakes when the explosion hits _something_ and he's too distracted by the fact that they were probably going to fucking _die_ to remember the look and the last things Kimball had discussed with Doyle.

* * *

Waiting at the crash site in the wake of Doyle's death is surely something. The Feds are all bitter and angry and lashing out at any Republic soldier who has the displeasure of crossing their paths.

He checks in with Matthews and his kids to see how they're holding up, but they're evasive and they don't want to talk about it, so he guesses that things weren't doing too well for them.

And it just makes Grif angry himself, mad at the unfairness of the whole damn thing, and at how his kids can never get any kind of fucking break.

He's just so tired of all this senseless fighting, and he half listens to Kimball's speech, but he hears the pain in her voice. The tempo of how close she is to losing her composure, of how close she is to breaking down in front of the entire army. But she is the symbol of strength for both soldiers, and she's not lying to them. She's telling them the truth, about her thoughts on the Federal Army from the start and to how now, _now_ she needs them to trust each other.

And her closing line of, "Fight because you deserve _TO FUCKING WIN,"_ reverberates everywhere, reaches every soldier, sinks in and settles.

And _unifies them._ The process that had a slow progress to it, that had rested upon an uneven balance in the wake of Doyle's sacrifice, suddenly reaches completion.

And then they start to plan.

Because Grif would be damned if they didn't win this war, if his kids wouldn't get a chance to embrace their soulmates, and if more bonds couldn't be made. Because the universe fucking owes them that much at least.

* * *

Grif would be lying if he didn't admit that he got _immense_ satisfaction at watching Felix get bested by a bunch of SIM Troopers. For all his grandiose and all his monologuing, he goes down humiliated and disgraced.

He's practically a rabid animal that they were going to put down. But for a second he recovers quickly and bellows out in laughter that gets cut off when a gun is thrown at his feet.

Glancing up at Tucker and Caboose, Grif lets out a, "Oh shit!" when _Locus_ decloaks behind them.

Locus doesn't react when Tucker points his gun at him, he merely stares down at Felix who says, "Locus, what are you doing? You're supposed to kill them!"

Locus' simple, "No," causes everyone to freeze in shock, Felix most of all. He continues, saying, "No more killing."

Felix looks panicked as he says, "What are you talking about? You're a soldier, remember?!"

Locus shakes his head in disagreement, "I'm not a soldier. I'm a monster... like you."

Felix stands up as he says, "Locus, we're partners. Survivors. We need each other. Wh-what about our orders? Our reward? Becoming the ultimate weapon?"

"I'm not doing this for the reward. I'm not doing this because someone told me to. I'm doing this for _me,"_ Locus said.

There's something dark behind his words, something that Felix immediately picks up on as he seems more nervous as he stutters out, "Locus, come on. You- you're not still mad about _that_ right?"

Locus doesn't say anything, but even from where Grif was standing he could see the violent way his fists were clenching, his hands shaking from half concealed rage.

"Come on, it was just a joke!" Felix laughs nervously. "You know I didn't mean it, I was just having some fun before we killed them!"

Grif can feel everyone's confusion, but his eyes widen slightly, reading between the lines. He glances up at Locus, before looking down at Felix again. He- he couldn't have been talking about what he _thought_ they were talking about.

And even if they were- why was Locus so upset about something like that? Was it because it went against protocol because it was something not even he would do?

He just couldn't wrap his head around why Locus could possibly hold a grudge for the trick Felix had played on _Grif._

Felix looks around before muttering darkly, "Fine, then you can die with the rest of them."

From that point, it wasn't that hard to get Felix between a rock and a hard place, with the choice to die by the grenade or to let down his shield. And his scream as he went over the edge brought a small smile to Grif's face as he exclaimed, "Holy shit. That was way better than incineration!"

But then they hear the sound of an energy sword sounding and the turn to see Locus holding the thrumming energy sword that Felix had just carelessly thrown away, saying, "It's said that only a true warrior can activate these temples."

Tucker, aims his gun at Locus asking, "What do you think you're doing?"

Locus doesn't answer them but he does place the sword into the lock, causing Tucker to lower his arm as Santa appears to say, "The tower is ready. You may now transmit your message."

With that, Santa disappears and Locus makes to leave, but Tucker calls out, "Hey, just because you saved us doesn't mean you can leave, asshole. You killed innocent people!"

Grif feels some shock at hearing Locus agree, saying, "I know. I'm going to make things right. But not from inside a cell."

Locus spares a quick look at Grif before focusing on Epsilon as he says, "If you run, we'll find you."

"No...you won't," Locus gives a quick nod at Grif before cloaking and disappearing.

And it was weird, and Grif didn't know how he was supposed to interpret it, but he was going to let it go because, "If I ever see another mercenary, it'll be too soon."

Without waiting any further, Epsilon transmits their message.

And that was supposed to be it. The end. The UNSC would come to get rid of the remaining space pirates, and everything would be fine and fucking dandy.

But nothing _ever_ works out in their favor as the menacing voice of Hargrove broke through the air to say, "You have made a terrible mistake."

And it all goes to _shit._

* * *

They don't stay long on Chorus after- after _Church_ dies.

And Grif's glad. If he had to spend any longer on that planet with its stupid soulmate bullshit then he would have driven himself crazy. He's sad to say goodbye to Gold Team, and he's even more reluctant to leave Matthews by himself in the medical ward, but Grey promises him that he'll be fine.

So Kimball sets them up on a fancy and isolated moon, with no one to bother him but the idiots that _had been_ bothering him since he got stationed at Blood Gulch. A nice cozy familiar equilibrium.

That is until collectively the rest of the gang remembered that Grif's eyes were a different color and that apparently he had, had sex with Felix. Which then made the whole retirement thing a fucking nightmare.

"It doesn't bother you," Simmons asked once when he was just longing on the beach, him intruding upon Grif's nap.

Groaning loudly, he covers his face with his hands, getting out, "Seriously? Why can't you just leave it alone- it happened! End of story."

"Because Grif! It's not right," Simmons starts, and at the nasty glare that Grif gives him behind his fingers, he explains, "He tricked you into doing that! You shouldn't just feel ok about it!"

"Listen, Simmons," Grif sighs, wanting so desperately to bury his head deep in the hot sand. "I get the concern, but he didn't trick me into doing anything ok? I agreed to it and that's the end of it."

Simmons scowled as he tacked on, "But you only agreed because he tricked you into thinking you were soulmates first."

"Ok, that's it," Grif rises up and storms past him to head to the Red Base. "I'm going to nap in _my_ room and none of you are allowed to bother me."

Simmons sputtered behind him, but Grif didn't care as he hid away in his room, counting away the minutes until the next asshole bothered him.

He got up to a few days before it was _Carolina_ of all people to brought the topic up to him next during one of her lessons on how to just relax.

They were both in the Lotus position, Grif trying to get her to take deep breaths in and out when she asks awkwardly, "So... your eyes are a different color now?"

"Oh my God, not you too," he just about tears his hair out at that.

"Sorry," she apologizes. And he thinks that she was going to let it be when she continues, "I just... find it jarring."

"Believe me, you're not the only one," he mutters, his eyes fluttering open, resigning himself to the fact that he was never going to focus on relaxing if they were going to have _this_ conversation. He ignores how his left eye remains blurry even after his right one adjusts to being open.

"Did you ever find out," she starts. "About who your soulmate is?"

"No," he answers. "Doyle said that my eye color didn't match any of his soldiers on record. They probably died sometime between."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she responds.

"Don't be," he shrugs. "Didn't even know who they were anyway."

"Still," she stresses. "I'm sorry about Felix too, Tucker... explained it to me."

"God, I just wish everyone would just shut up about it," he admits. "Like I get it, he's an asshole who got what he deserved. But they just don't get how the alternative had seemed so much worse back then."

"I've only vaguely heard about what happened after you found out about having a soulmate," Carolina looked to the side. "Tucker seemed to brush it off easily but, I wanna hear from you what that means."

"It's like Kimball said," he sighed. "In the beginning, the Republic soldiers just fucking _hated_ the Feds with a passion, and they hated anything affiliated with them too. So they ignored me by proxy. And the others avoided me because Tucker was angry at the Feds and Simmons- God I don't know what the fuck _he_ was thinking, but I know Caboose was just uncomfortable and just followed what Tucker was doing."

"Just like that," she prodded. "Are you still mad at them?"

"Fuck yeah I am, but what the hell am I supposed to do about it? It's just like the Felix thing, it's in the past now I can't do shit about it," Grif said.

Carolina is quiet, but eventually, she says, "I wish I could do the same. Sometimes I still think about all the things I've done," she pauses, and Grif can see her eyes water slightly before she sighs turning away. "All the people I've wronged."

"Yeah," is the only thing Grif can think to say to that. So then they're sitting in silence again, and he tries to hold the words back, but he says it anyway because he knows he can trust her above all else. "Carolina, I-"

He stops, and she doesn't force him to continue, but he does so himself, softly saying, "There's something I need to tell you but you can't tell the others."

"Of course," she doesn't hesitate to say.

"My eye," he reaches up to the left one. "Grey says that it has macular degeneration, it's- I'm going blind in it. Which shouldn't matter since we're _retired_ but, it's been getting worse lately. Just thought I could trust you to know."

"Thank you," she says. "For trusting me."

"Yeah," he mutters.

And they sit there in silence, the water behind them creating a tune to follow, breathing in and out, trying to go back to their meditation.

* * *

Carolina had gotten everyone to back off, so Grif was actually allowed to enjoy his retirement. It felt nice being able to just lay back and relax, not having to worry about anything attacking him or ripping the rug out from under him to change the status quo.

The others had been trying to get him to join their shenanigans, and while he appreciated the effort, he didn't really feel like making a fool of himself by accidentally tripping over something that he couldn't really see anymore. He'd only join if Carolina dragged him into it, but that was it.

He got angry after Donut burned down their accommodations _twice_ but he doesn't feel upset at the loss of the water park, having opted out of that particular brand of stupidity. He hears from Simmons later on the war of the robots against the dinosaurs, and he's glad he missed it, knowing that the bright light from the explosions and lasers would have irritated his eye anyway.

So when that reporter shows up out of nowhere he's the last to find out. He had taken a nap in what he had proclaimed his cave and woke up to find everyone gathered in the base, waiting for some random woman to show them something.

And it turns out to be a message from Church. Which is- it sure as hell is fucking something.

And he feels obligated to go and help, Carolina deserved his support. But she didn't reach out to him after they heard the message, and he hopes it's because she knows that he wouldn't be much use to them all on a mission like this. In the nine months that they'd been retired his eye had gotten much worse, much faster than Grey had told him it would happen.

But part of him doesn't want to put himself in a position where he would have to fight. He's just done with the whole thing. He doesn't want to get killed and he doesn't want _to_ kill.

So he runs away to his cave, hoping that they'd just forget about him and leave. He was no use to them on this, and he didn't want to go anyways either. Things had just started to be _fine,_ things were blowing over. This would start the cycle up again and he doesn't think he can handle that again.

But then the reporter enters the cave too and now he's gotta deal with her. For fuck's sake.

"Go away," he says right off the bat.

"I just wanna talk," she placates.

He's turned around and he doesn't want to face her in case he sways accidentally with the motion, so he says, "Well I don't want to talk to you! Or anyone!" He turns around slowly while saying, "So make like a tree and fuck off!"

"I see you're upset," she says cautiously. "Can we talk about why?"

"You wanna know why?" he scoffs. "My life has been a perpetual living hell ever since I got onto fucking Chorus and it hasn't stopped _since._ Just when I thought I could get a break, just this once, you show up and fuck everything up again. Well, I've had enough, nothing you say will make me go out there and join them."

"Surely there must be something to convince you to come," she says. "I know you, Captain Grif, you're selfless and you're loyal, surely this can't be what makes you leave the rest of the Reds and Blues?"

"Yeah, well, looks like you don't know much about me then," he mocks. "In case you weren't aware I don't care much about those assholes anymore."

"But you must care about _something_ right?" she asks. "I was saving this for a personal interview, but I have a message to pass along for Kimball, something that I think might interest you."

"What could Kimball possibly have to say to me," he glared.

"She told me that she should have told you this a long time ago, and as such, she asked me to pass along the message," Dylan took a deep breath before continuing. "She said that General Doyle lied to you, he knew who your soulmate was and he only had the ability to tell it to Kimball before he died. And now she's passed it on to me. I can tell you who your soulmate is if you come and help us."

"Excuse me," he stated quietly. "Who the _fuck_ do you think you are."

"I-" she started but he cut her off.

"You think I give a single _shit_ about who the fuck my soulmate is?" he thunders. "Well, news flash lady! I don't fucking care! In fact- I hope whoever's name is rattling around in your head right now is someone whose fucking _dead_ because if they aren't I'll kill them _myself."_

"You can't possibly mean that," she says with a shake of her head.

"Oh but I do! I mean it from the bottom of my miserable fucking heart. I don't care who they are, because the fact that they _exist_ has caused me so much fucking grief that I fucking _hate_ them," he growls out. "So fuck off, nothing you can say will get me to go with you, not even the name of my _soulmate."_

He storms past her and goes to the other end of the island and stews in his anger. He doesn't even return to that side until he can see and hear two different ships leaving the atmosphere. And he watches them go and he just doesn't fucking care at this point.

* * *

Now that he's alone, all he can do is think. Think, think, think. And because that reporter put the thought into his head. All he can do is think about who his soulmate can possibly be. And why Doyle would hide it from him.

It doesn't make sense, and it hurts his head. It makes him dizzy with confusion and anger and despair. All he wants to do is curl up into a ball and just fucking die, but he doesn't. Instead, he stays up at night and thinks about who his soulmate could possibly be.

And it drives him _crazy._

Because who could it possibly be. Now he wishes he got the name- just a name- out of Dylan before she left. Before he yelled at her.

Because now he had a volleyball with just a visor and no name or face. No color for the armor, the white of the ball sufficing for now because that was the standard color for the Feds.

And it keeps him company, and it doesn't say anything mean to him or about him. But he also doesn't have a voice for it so that might be why. But still, he feels like he can see the expression change on the visor he taped on it. Like, he'll say something to it and the visor will change to a pleased expression or an exasperated one depending on what he's said.

He's tried to make other versions, with actual colors on the ball. But it just didn't feel right, and he didn't know why. And he tried all the colors available to him, which was basically every color on the rainbow. But none of them fit.

But that was fine! Everything was fine! Just him and his fake soulmate, just chilling on the island. Alone. Which was double fine as there was no one to bother him about his soulmate or judge him about past choices that were not to be talked about.

So he spends his time in quiet, curled around the volleyball. Just resting his head on top of it and thinking, knees brought to his chest squishing the ball against him. Occasionally he'll say something and he'll see if it reacts, and sometimes it does but mostly it doesn't.

Just sitting and relaxing and pondering on what his soulmate is like and who they are and he doesn't care but he _does._ He cares a great deal. But in a curious manner. Nothing else.

He's just sitting on the grass, staring at the two empty bases when he hears the sound of someone walking towards him. He dismisses it quickly, not believing that there's anyone there with him. His eyes are closed and he hears the footsteps stop in front of him, and he hears a soft hiss. Slowly opening his eyes is an experience as his right eye picks up on the grey and green armor in front of him but the left eye picking up on nothing, just small imprints of something in his peripheral.

Looking up he comes face to face with Locus, albeit with new armor, but still Locus nonetheless. He's holding Lopez in his arms, and he kneels down placing the robot head to the side as he looks at Grif. Grif's too shocked to move away, but he does tighten his grasp on the volleyball.

"Captain," Locus greets.

"Locus," Grif responds warily.

"What are you doing," the ex-mercenary asked softly.

"Nothing," he said quickly. "Literally- just nothing."

"And the volleyball," he glances down.

"This is," he pauses before deciding, _fuck it,_ and continuing, "it's my soulmate."

"Your... soulmate?" Locus questions.

"Yeah," he nods.

"Alright, come on," Locus extended his hand. "I have much to explain to you."

Grif looked at the hand, debated taking it before reaching out his own and overestimating it. His hand went over the extended one and closed around the air. He winces at that and tries to move his hand back so that he can get it right on the second try, but Locus simply grabs it mid-process.

Pulling him up, Locus moved back and the let go of his hand, looking to the side.

Grif should be worried that Locus was going to kill him, but he was more tired than afraid. Everything was a mess and he hated that it was, but clutching his volleyball close he listened as Locus informed him on the status of the others.

"Your robot informed me that you would be here," Locus concluded.

"Yeah, Lopez is usually pretty good at communicating," he said. "But I don't know why the others thought I could help, I'm not much use to them."

"I disagree," Locus flexed his fingers slightly. "Any help that I can get is better than just going in blind."

"Considering that my help is literally blind help?" Grif raised an eyebrow at that, before shaking his head slightly. "Trust me on this, it's been a real pain trying to get around this place when I can't accurately judge where stuff is. I've been bumping into shit for the past month."

"You're blind?" Locus sounded surprised.

"Just in this eye," he tapped the corner of his left eye. "Something that's partially Sarge's fault, partially my soulmates fault."

"Your soulmates fault. Explain," his voice sounded a bit strained at that.

"Something about the sudden eye color change being too much for the eye transplant or other," he waved off, other hand curling around the volleyball. "Just a lot of nonsense like usual."

Locus is quiet for a moment, before reaching up to take off his own helmet. Grif is shocked as he does so, but takes a moment to soak it all in, takes not of the 'x' shaped scar adorning his face, and as Locus opens his eyes, he takes note of how the right was a warm brown and the other a mix of brown, with streaks of green and grey.

Grif feels the volleyball slip from his hands and it bounces against the ground, rolling away, the reflective foil out of sight.

He doesn't say anything as Locus sighs out, "Captain, we have... _much_ to discuss."

And just like that, everything starts to make sense to him. The reluctance of Doyle and Kimball to tell him right away, why Felix did what he did, and that last interaction between Felix and Locus.

And he starts to feel conflicted because, well, now he knows but- but he feels like he's back at square one with Felix telling him that he was his soulmate. He's not happy and he's not mad but he's sure as fuck tired.

He has no words and no questions, and his shoulders slope down, and he lowers his eyes to the ground. Of course.

Of course, this would happen to him.

"I apologize for," Locus pauses, and Grif can see the restrained anger in his expression. "What Felix did. He was doing that to upset me, you were just unfortunately caught between."

He still says nothing.

"I am sure you're shocked, to say the least," Locus closed his eyes, hiding mismatched eyes. "And I understand if you'd rather I not be your soulmate."

Grif looks away. He doesn't want to deal with this right now. "You said that the guys needed help, right? I'll come along, but don't expect much from me."

"It's more than I could ask for," Locus puts his helmet back and reaches down to pick up Lopez. "Come, I'll show you to my ship."

Grif retrieves his own helmet and places it on his head, and then he follows Locus to his ship.

Locus discusses with him his plan on how to infiltrate the Blues and Reds base. But after that, the rest of the ride is spent in silence, a small frown on his face as he tries his best to not just smash his head against the console of the ship in anger.

He's so upset and he's not surprised that the universe just doesn't give a shit about him yet again. He just fucking hates soulmates so much.

* * *

"Grif," Simmons whisper brings him out of his thoughts from the cell next to his. The plan had worked out well enough, with Grif not even having to try hard enough to make a fool out of himself to get this Temple guy to underestimate him. "Are you ok?"

"Sure, why wouldn't I be," he mutters.

"You've been weirdly quiet for a while now," Simmons looks to the side. "It's just not like you."

"Do you ever wonder why we're here, Simmons?" Grif deflects. "Because I'm sure I'm only alive right now so that the universe has someone to beat up on."

"Grif," Simmons says softly. "You don't mean that."

"It doesn't even bother you how distant we've become," he continued. "You haven't noticed but I sure have. And it sucks. Because our friendship has changed but you act like it hasn't."

Simmons goes quiet and he looks away. But he looks back and says, "I don't mean to."

"But you do," he says. "And I want you to stop, I want you all to stop."

"Sorry," Simmons apologizes.

"You know, I really hate that word," Grif admits quietly.

And the Locus comes in with Sarge in tow, and they're all getting out of the cages as Locus releases them.

Simmons watches as he opens Grif's cage, and how Locus offers his hand but Grif ignores it, bumping slightly into the side of the cage but not acting surprised at doing so. And he watches the way Locus watches Grif as he does so, and then he thinks he understands something a little more.

* * *

Grif doesn't do much when Tucker goes rushing into an army of enemy SIM Troopers, and he doesn't do much during that actual attack either. He stands by Donut who is also staying towards the back. At one point he hands over a grenade to him, and Donut manages to knock out one of the soldiers without pulling the pin.

And he stays back as he watches Wash walk-in unprotected and he watches as he gets shot. And at how the others swiftly get rid of the remaining soldiers, rushing over to his fallen body.

Locus is carrying Wash into his ship to get him to medical attention and Grif doesn't care that he does so.

Maybe he cares a little. But not that much.

That's what he tells himself at least.

* * *

"What now," is the first thing out of his mouth after the time machine disappears and Temple is taken care of.

"Now we take a fucking break," Tucker sighs.

"A real break or a fake break," Simmons mutters. Grif rolls his eyes slightly at that, knowing that the chances of them getting a break where incredibly low.

"A real break- a _break_ break," Tucker answers.

It's a process for all of them to get out of there, and even more of a process for Dylan to contact the UNSC or Chorus.

Thinking about Chorus leaves a slightly bad taste in his mouth, and he scowls slightly behind his helmet. But then he thinks about how he might get a chance to see Bitters or Matthews, or any of his kids again and he amends that he wouldn't mind it if Chorus sent them over to check on them.

But walking out of the base, he notices a slight shimmer from his peripheral and makes the idiot move to look in that direction, rolling his eyes when he realized that he wouldn't be able to see whatever it was anyways.

The others are talking amongst themselves, discussing something senseless he supposes when he hears, "Captain Grif."

"Locus," he greets. "What are you doing back?"

"I had a prospect to offer," Locus turned towards a secluded spot on the island likely where he had hidden his ship. "If you would, I'd like you to come with me. I'm trying to become a better person, but I know I'll need help in that regard."

"I'm not exactly the pinnacle of a stable person to ask that of," he looks down.

"You're still leagues ahead of me," Locus says. "You don't have to accept, I understand if you'd rather we never see each other again. But I wouldn't be able to move on if I didn't at least ask."

And Grif thinks about it. He really does. And he only briefly glances back towards the Reds and Blues before looking at Locus again.

Why the fuck not. Might as well go with this. He's made worse decisions.

"Ok," he agrees. He follows Locus to A'rynasea and boards it.

"Where's Grif," Simmons asks but is drowned out by the clamor of the others. But by the time anyone else catches on too, A'rynasea has left Earth and passed by an unsuspecting Chorus ship filled with a different Grif and four Lieutenants.

And everything is fine for a while but-

It's a year before he notices that the others were missing.

**Author's Note:**

> So this one, was, yeah. Hopefully, the literary allusion that I made wasn't too obscure, but I had a lot of fun figuring out ways to incorporate it into the story! But I've worked on this so long to hate it so whoops, sorry still since this one is really weird and kinda depressing.
> 
> If you have any questions or something in that vein of thought, my Tumblrs are @agent-murica (main) and @amateurscribes (writing)!


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